worse before it gets better.”
Great.
My eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and I could see slivers of pale light shining through rectangular slats on the wall. The dirt floor was damp beneath me. “Where are we?”
“Some sort of shed. It’s not insulated.”
My hands were tied behind my back, and my fingertips tingled from cold. “Why are we here?”
“They’re lookin’ for Lula.”
I struggled to keep my eyes open. “Lula’s not here?”
“No. But they want her. Bad.”
A wave of nausea rose up, and I pushed up on a shoulder and turned my head as I vomited violently.
“That’s also part of it,” she said sympathetically.
I vomited again. After the last spasm passed, I tried to sit up, but my stomach muscles ached too badly, so I rolled away from the mess, toward Greta. I began to shake and she edged closer to me, pressing her jeans-covered leg against my bare arm. My eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but I could tell she was wearing the thick sweater she’d had on the night she’d walked into the tavern. Her left eye and her lips were swollen. She’d been beaten.
“You’re gonna freeze to death,” she said, her voice full of concern.
Whoever had taken me from the tavern had dumped me in here without a coat. “Who took us?”
“That guy who came into the café askin’ about Lula,” she said.
“Shane Jones,” I said. “Only some people know him as Charlie. I found out he works at Greener Pastures. I think he was the one who took your wallet. Marco got his employment application. We got his address, and Bingham and his men searched the property, but they didn’t find anything. Do you know where we are?”
“I was unconscious when I got here too. I don’t leave this shed, so I have no idea.”
“They don’t take you somewhere else to question you?”
“There is no they. Just that guy. He asks where Lula went, I tell him I don’t know, and he knocks me around. Over and over.”
“Do you hear any sounds?” I asked. “Cars? Planes? Water?”
“Birds,” she said. “Just birds…and leaves.”
“No people talking?”
“No.”
“Have you tried the door?”
“He locks it from the outside. I think it’s a padlock.”
I finally managed to push myself up to sitting, my back resting against the wall, wood splitters digging into my skin. Another wave of nausea rose up, but I swallowed the bile and then took several breaths through my mouth.
Greta leaned against me. “It takes a few hours to recover.”
I wasn’t sure I had a few hours. It was freezing outside, and I thought I could see snowflakes through the slats of the shed. I was only wearing jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt.
I’d gone to the back room at around nine thirty. Marco wouldn’t show up until eleven, but it wouldn’t take Ruth and Tiny long to notice I was missing. What would they do? Call Marco? Wyatt? Would they assume I’d just walked out? Even if they contacted Marco, how would he find me?
Bottom line: I couldn’t wait for someone to come rescue us. We had to save ourselves.
“Are your hands tied behind your back?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Get them to the front. We’re breaking out of here.”
“But the door’s locked,” she protested.
“We’re not using the door.” Another wave of nausea hit me, and I took several breaths through my mouth until it passed. “We’re going to dig ourselves out. Is there anything in here we can use to dig?”
“I…”
“Think about it while you work your hands to the front.” I braced my back against the wall and lifted my butt. Sliding my hands underneath me, I then concentrated on unthreading my arms from my legs.
Greta’s voice shook with fear. “If he sees we’ve done this, he won’t like it.”
“We won’t be here when he comes back.” With my back to the wall, I pushed up to standing, then waited out a rush of dizziness. Greta seemed to be working on slipping her hands to the front.
I turned and pressed my eye to a crack between the slat. The ground was clear for about ten feet and then it hit the woods. I took a step toward another wall and my legs nearly buckled underneath me. I caught myself against the wood slats and waited for a new round of nausea and pain to subside.
“What the hell did he give me?”
“Some drug they created but it didn’t work out for recreational use. Obviously. It’s brutal, Carly. You need to sit and rest.”
No fucking way was I going to sit and